


Of Beauty and Nightmares

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Series: X is for... [13]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s01e05 Small Worlds, Fairies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The creatures of Gwen’s girlhood dreams have become her nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Beauty and Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of my inspiration came from Shirley Barber, whose illustrations I just adored when I was little. If you’ve never seen her artwork, you should fix that ASAP. Oh, and sign up for my prompt challenge here on Ao3; it’s called Aliens & Time Machines!

When Gwen was a young girl, her mother would tuck her into bed and tell her stories of the fair folk. Little Gwen Cooper would snuggle under the covers and close her eyes, letting her mother’s gentle words send her to sleep, where she could be free to dream about flying and dancing with the fantastical creatures. She would be made to feel safe, as if nothing could possibly interrupt the sense of peace and security that the stories cast over her.

Mary Cooper spoke of fairies, pixies, elves, and sprites. She described every detail, from their pretty, patterned wings to their skirts made out of flower petals and their little pointed ears that could pick up even the smallest of sounds. Their facial features were fine, with high cheekbones and dainty noses. Their teeth were shiny and white like pearls, and their smiles could brighten anyone’s day, even a grumpy old man’s. And they all had long, flowing hair, even the male fairies.

Gwen would smile, picturing the fairies’ beauty in her mind, and crossing her fingers and wishing on stars in the hope that someday she would see one, even if only for a moment’s glance. She had never seen anything so truly magical in her life and sometimes believed that she never would. But her mother’s stories gave her hope that if she was very good and very lucky, someday she might.

The fairies wore dainty satin slippers and acorn hats, and they sewed their finest gowns themselves, using silk and diamond droplets. Some of the creatures would pick toadstools and put them in their baskets, while others would spend their days baking cakes or collecting fruits and berries in the forest. Some fairies were musicians, playing sweet harmonies on their flutes, bells, and harps for their friends to dance and sing along to while the musicians themselves were doing what they loved.

All of that certainly had its appeal, but Gwen was even more interested in the fairy children. In her mother’s stories, baby fairies would live inside flower cradles until they were big enough to move into the toadstool houses with their families and friends. When the children grew a little older and could walk and fly on their own, they would spend their days playing in wide open fields or in crystal-clear streams, while the elder fairies watched over them to keep them safe. Magical bubbles would float in the air, the children making sure to keep them there, not letting them touch the water’s surface. The freedom the fairy folk had made little Gwen’s heart yearn for the same: to live in a fairyland where she could play to her heart’s content, never having to go to school and not going to bed until she was ready.

Sometimes, when Mary Cooper wanted to indulge her daughter, she would spin a tale about a fairy wedding that would make young Gwen sigh in content. The glorious white gown the fairy princess bride would wear, the handsomeness of the prince and groom, the vows made to love each other forever and ever… Gwen envied all of it, and hoped that one day she would have a magical fairy wedding too.

Her mother would end her story every night by painting a picture of a fairy bed. The pillow would be made of soft moss upon which one of the sweet creatures would lay down his or her head. The mattress would be just as soft, made completely of cotton puffs. A firefly would create just enough light for the fairy to see in order to get into bed and pull the down duvet over itself, and then a bluebird, sitting in the fairy street, would sing a lullaby to send all the children to sleep. Mary would sing the lullaby, and then kiss the sleeping Gwen’s forehead before slipping out of the room.

Now, twenty-nine-year-old Gwen Cooper remembers the stories her mother told her about the wonderful and mystical fairies and the dreams she would have about them. She hasn’t thought much about fairies in a long time, not since her dreams were shattered when an older cousin informed her at age seven and a half that fairies, mermaids, and unicorns don’t exist. She wishes she could look back with nostalgia on those innocent days when she believed her mother’s every word and wished she could visit Fairyland for herself, but instead she is left wishing that they had never happened in the first place.

Because these fairies, these creatures that choke people with red petals, hurt humans to protect their own, and steal people’s children, have ruined the dreams of her childhood. These are the making of nightmares – Jack even compared the two – and she doesn’t feel safe even in her own home. They have invaded her personal space, trashed her flat and left those condemning petals in their wake, and there is no way to stop them. No weapon is strong enough to kill them, and no negotiation, bribe, or threat will convince them to leave the earth in peace.

Before joining Torchwood, she never had to bring her work home with her, but now it seems that her work has come home to _her_ , whether she likes it or not. And she doesn’t like it. She’s never had to fear for her life like this before – she’s always had at least _some_ control over her safety, but all the security she is used to feeling in the home that she has made with Rhys has gone.

Giving the room another look over, goose bumps forming on her arms and her heart beating faster the longer she stands there, she reaches into her pocket for her mobile. She can’t deal with this on her own, so she calls the only person who might be able to help. She calls Jack.


End file.
